This Must Be The Place
by legallyblained
Summary: Daya tries out some sexy role play. It goes really wrong.


Daya often gets frustrated when she visits her mother. She knows she should just take a little satisfaction from the fact that Aleida's still in here, while she gets to leave, to take Lola home with her, to be with her man, but still. She would never stop her from holding the baby. It's good, really, that she wants to see her and hold her, but it stings a little. She sees her mother holding her granddaughter, and all she can think is 'why couldn't you do this for your own babies? A smile, a cuddle, anything?'

But she sucks it up, because if being a little annoyed with her mother is the hardest thing in her life right now, then things are the best they've ever been. She can handle this once a week.

Today, she's cooing over Lola, prodding playfully at her cheeks and kissing her hands, and Daya's mid eye-roll when Aleida stops.

"So are you gonna tell me about it?"

Daya frowns.

"About what?"

"The fucking. Not all of us get laid in prison, girl, I need details. You two do anything interesting? And don't give me any of that cuddling shit, I need something juicy."

"Mom, not in front of the baby. It's weird."

Aleida snorts.

"Come on, she doesn't know what the fuck's going on. Hey, Lola, do you give a shit if we start talking about your mommy and daddy fucking? You wanna talk about blowjobs? Anal? Fisting?" The baby gurgles. "See? It's fine. Now tell me everything."

Daya squirms in her seat. She's spoken to her mother about sex twice before. The first was 'the talk', in which she made it clear that nobody was going to want a girl like her unless she put out, and the other was when she was 17, holding hands with a boy in the street, when Aleida drove past and cat-called her with 'If that's all he's doing with you then he's doing more with some other girl!' In fairness, she had been right that time, but it was barely a conversation.

"I don't want to talk about that with you. It's… it's fine." That didn't mean unsatisfactory in any way. It meant none of your damn business.

"Fine? You gonna keep him with 'fine' fucking?"

"Mom, please… it's private."

"Baby, I've seen you take a shit on more than one occasion, and now you're all about privacy? It better not be boring. I raised you better than that."

Daya snorts.

"Yeah, thanks Mommy. You did such a good job bringing me up that a prison guard got me pregnant."

"And it was the best thing that ever happened to you." Daya can't keep a little smile from her face, but it doesn't last long. "So what are you doing to keep him interested?"

"What?"

"Honey, you can't just stick with missionary once a week with the lights off and expect him to hang around. A baby's only gonna get you so much loyalty. You gotta get nasty."

"Mom-"

"You may be out of this place, but he's not. He's still here every day, with shiny new girls coming in all the time. And don't kid yourself that Maritza and Flaca would turn him down if they got a chance."

She knows it's bullshit, but it's bullshit she's heard so many times that the self-doubt is ingrained. If anybody could convince her that she wasn't enough for John, it would be her mother.

"Well… what should I do?"

Aleida smirks.

"So much for you high and mighty little attitude. Okay, let me- wait. Role play. Oh, yeah, he comes home in his uniform, with his stick in his belt, and you're the naughty inmate and he's gotta give you a shot. But you don't go down so easy, so he's all 'well maybe you should just go down here instead' and he just grabs your hair and-"

"Mom!"

Aleida looks at her like she can't count to ten.

"It would be like a reminder of how you two first met. It's called romance."

"We started seeing each other because he gave me gum. It was cute."

"Ugh. Fine. Lose him. See if I care."

Ignore her, ignore her, ignore her.

She really tries.

But a couple of weeks later, Lola's asleep and Daya's waiting for John to come home from an evening shift wearing something that she knows for a fact would not be allowed in prison. It's a tight, short skirt, a shirt that barely covers her boobs never mind her stretch-marked stomach, and a little cap. All black-and-white striped. She convinces herself that it's sexy and fun, and she reminds herself that John will want her no matter what she's wearing. When she hears the keys in the door, she grabs the black, furry handcuffs from the hall table and lets them hang from her finger.

He's definitely surprised. His eyes look set to pop right out of his head.

"Uh- are you- um. What's happening?"

She puts a hand on her hip, jutting it out a little. It's awkward because the heels are too high and she doesn't think the skirt goes down over her ass all the way and it's kind of trapping her legs together, but she tries to turn her angular walk into a sexy wiggle towards him.

"I've been a very bad inmate, officer. I think you need to give me a shot." She kicks the door shut behind him and drops the cuffs on his hand. He's not expecting it and they fall to the floor, but he scrambles to pick them. She wants to laugh but she's determined to do this properly. She wants to be sexy for him, the sexy, confident kind of woman that he could never leave.

"Oh, I don't, uh-" he clears his throat, "I don't think you've been that, uh, that bad. Don't worry about it."

She rolls her eyes.

"John," she whispers, reluctant to break character too much, "it's a- I'm doing a thing. Can you just-?"

"Oh. Right. Uh-huh. So, you've been really bad. What did you do?"

"Oh, plenty of things. This uniform isn't regulation and it's been _very_ distracting for you."

"Ah, yeah. Totally."

"And now I'm way too close to you. It's inappropriate. Maybe even insubordinate."

The last word makes him flinch, and she wants to drop it all, forget she ever even tried this, but then he swallows and grips onto the handcuffs.

"Yeah. Okay. You want me to… I guess I should teach you a lesson."

"You know officer, I think the best way to make sure I don't disrespect you again is to use force. Show me you mean business."

He's started to go pale, but he nods and keeps going.

"Mm-hmm. You're coming with me, inmate." He takes her wrist and tries to click a cuff on. She tries to help him out by turning around and putting both hands together behind her back. She can feel his unsteady breath on his neck, and she smiles at the way he ever-so-gently puts the cuffs on. "So, um. Now what?"

"You tell me, _sir_." She can tell his hands are shaking, so she twists her wrists so she can knot their fingers together clumsily. She backs up to him a little, just enough to rub her ass against his crotch. "I'm feeling defiant tonight; maybe you should just press me up against that wall and show me who's in charge?"

"I… I-"

His breathing is stilted, and not in a turned-on way. She starts to slip one hand out of the cuffs (they were way too loose anyway) and is about to give up on the whole thing, when she hears him heave out a broken sob.

"Baby?"

She turns to see his eyes watery, his cheeks white, and his hands trembling.

"I can't, I- I'm sorry, I can't do it-"

She takes his face in her hands and shushes him, and he all but collapses, his face buried against her neck, arms wrapped around her waist. They sink to the floor, and she strokes his hair, all the while soothing him with whispers of 'it's okay, I'm here, I've got you' over and over.

"What's wrong? John, talk to me."

"I can't do that again, Daya. I'm sorry."

"You- you don't have to apologise; I was only doing it because- cause I thought you might want to. God, I'm an idiot, I'm sorry."

"No. No, it's just- when you were in there- do you think I liked that? Daya, I hated it. There was always this, this fear, like you thought if I wanted to I could do anything to you, any awful thing, and you would be powerless. I hated seeing that, I hated you feeling that way, I hated us not being… equal. I never, ever want to go back to that. Ever."

"John, I'm sorry-"

"We were just getting to this perfect balance," his eyes aren't even locking with hers properly like they normally would, but he's gripping her hands as he clings to her, "I- I was really starting to feel like- like you trusted me. I don't want to lose that, I don't want to lose you, I don't wanna be in that position again…"

"Shh, it's okay, babe, it's all right. I've got you. Nothing's gonna change, I promise."

He takes a long, deep breath in and lets it out quickly. It's hot against her neck.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I just- I thought it might be sexy. I thought I could be sexy. Stupid."

He goes still then pulls back so he can look at her properly. He strokes her hair out of her eyes and kisses her, and she can still feel tears on his skin, and it makes her kiss back harder.

"God, Daya, you're _so_ sexy. You being here, putting up with me every day, raising our daughter, I can't think of anything sexier. You being out of there is sexy. Your _freedom_ is sexy."

She smiles and sniffs.

"It's like Abraham Lincoln's hitting on me."

"Fine. Tell you what, let's get you out of this costume, and I'll ditch the uniform, and I'll take you upstairs and show you just how fucking sexy you are to me."

She grins sheepishly.

"Fine."

"As long as I don't have to pretend to be anything other than some idiot who is completely in love with you."

She squeezes his hand and kisses him.

"Got it."


End file.
